Talorg stole a glance at the Friar who managed to keep a straight face. Both were well aware the King in his younger days had been a thoroughly indiscriminate womanizer. Looks had indeed never been his concern.

"Princess Gwenna has many good qualities, your Majesty," the Friar offered. "She has taught herself to read, and she can write as fine a line of Latin as any of my monks. She has composed hymnals and, as you know, she is no mean adversary when it comes to chess."

"All not worth a farthing compared to a pretty face," the King remarked gloomily.

The Friar knew the answer the King was seeking and felt the time had come to voice it. "There is no Church canon specifying that the older daughter be married first, so perhaps the solution is simply to find a husband for your younger daughter without regard to so peculiar a custom."

The King nodded. "Pity her poor husband. She'll raise more havoc at his court than an invading army of French soldiers. He may have to import a corps of those emasculated guards the Caliph of Araby surrounds his wives with. Nothing short of that will keep her in line."

He sighed, then went on. "Why God wished her upon our household is beyond my understanding. My older son, Cafolydd, spends his time hawking and has the minimal amount of intelligence needed to rule. My younger son, Tandru, is caught up in saintliness. And Gwenna has never once given me cause to complain. But, her sister..." He shook his head.

Smiling, the Friar commented, "With all due respect, your Majesty, God can hardly be held responsible for your youngest child."

The King showed the gap in his teeth as he guffawed. "Right you are, Gwion. Had I not indulged in so much wine on that Shrove Tuesday, the Queen might not have seemed quite so seductive. And here I thought I had given up all such folly. But, so much for reminiscence and recrimination. Custom be damned! A husband for my youngest it shall be! Do either of you have suggestions?"

"Prince Owain of Betwys," Talorg said without hesitation. The Friar nodded in agreement.

"My," the King responded with amusement, "We are aiming rather high, are we not? I understand he is quite handsome; that royal princesses from as far away as Brittany are being offered to him. His father's wealth is said to rival Midas's."

For the first time Talorg relaxed completely. "One look at her will make him capitulate without a struggle."

The King turned to the Friar. "Can you make the arrangements?"

"Of course. I know the King of Belwys's confessor. I will send him a letter this day."

"There will be no mention of marriage."

"Understood. Prince Owain will simply be invited to visit, for-let us say-a week. It will be a . . . a courtesy visit."

Turning to Talorg, the King said, "You will be personally responsible for preserving order, which means you will see to it that several of the court ladies are in constant attendance upon the Prince's future bride. I want no sampling of the wares prior to purchase."

"Perhaps it would be simpler for some of my men to keep the Prince under observation."

"No! I do not want him spied upon, and I certainly do not want him to feel he is being watched. If he wishes to cavort with court ladies or chambermaids, that is his prerogative as an honored guest. Order your men to strictly avoid his presence and to look the other way should they inadvertently encounter him." The king paused and smiled. "Except for his to-be wife, he is to have free run of the court--and the entire kingdom if he so wishes."

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